Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All
by Dara Tavar
Summary: A baby is born. He is given a name. But this intelligent infant finds the name given to him below his status, let alone the peasants handling him. So, using his superior intellect, this child takes on the responsibility of naming himself-and one day he will find another being of superior knowledge with whom to share this name with, to tell peasants everywhere of their new master.


**Okay, so I started this story a while ago, but never got around to finishing it-and because of that, I wasn't sure how I had planned on ending it. So, I went back today and read through it to try and figure it out...but I still couldn't remember, lol. Anyways, I came up with an ending that I think might work. If I come up with something else, I'll probably just add it in as a second chapter, that way I'm not changing the story if anyone reads it before that. If I come up with anything though, it will be when the Doctor shows up.**

**Alright, I'm done talking now. Enjoy!  
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**DT  
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**Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All**

"_Peasant!"_ he screamed, glaring at the man in blue who held him in big hands. _"You unworthy being! Who do you think you are?"_ he screamed louder, but the man didn't seem to know what he was saying. Why couldn't this peasant understand him? He was speaking perfect English.

"It's a boy!" the man said with a grin, looking past the baby in his hands before handing the child off to someone else. He helped the mother while the baby was cleaned and wrapped up in a soft blue blanket before taking the child again and, holding him close, moved around to the side of the bed.

"_Put me down, peasant! I do not wish you to hold me. Now, put me down!"_

"I think he wants his mummy," the man said with a laugh, laying the crying child in Sophie Owens' arms with a gentle smile as he looked down on the boy.

"_Wait, I know this person,"_ he murmured, looking up at the woman holding him now. Ah, this was his mother. _'Mummy,'_ he thought with the slightest smile possible, not that they could tell it was a smile.

"Alfie," she said with a wide, tired grin, eyes on her newborn son. She held him close before smiling up at Craig. "Do you want to hold him?" she asked, sound almost sleepy.

'_Alfie? Alfie!'_ the child screamed in his mind, what the adults didn't know was a glare darkening his eyes and drawing those little brows down over his barely opened eyes. _'That is an unworthy name for one such as I! I need a more magnificent name than that, something these peasants will never forget.'_

Craig took his son from Sophie, his beautiful but tired wife—at least in his mind, so far they'd decided it was just a piece of paper. "Are you sure I won't hurt him?" he asked, almost fearfully as he held the baby against his chest and started down at him with wide eyes. When he looked back at Sophie, her eyes had closed and she almost appeared to be sleeping as the nurses finished cleaning her and making her comfortable.

'_And who is this person?'_ he asked himself, staring up at the man holding him now. He didn't know what this person's name was, but he did know he had something to do with him mummy… _'Since you must not be a peasant, Mummy is above such people, I will need to call you something… From now on, your name is _Not Mummy_ because you are not a peasant, but you are not my mummy.'_

"Hello there, Alfie," Craig said with a smile, reaching down to slip his finger in his son's tiny little hand. Those fragile fingers curled slightly around his bigger one, exerting only the smallest bit of force before quickly releasing him and curling into a small fist. "Do you like your name, Alfie?" he asked.

'_I hate it,'_ the baby thought, giving him a look that scrunched up his face, but looked like nothing to his father. _'It is not good enough for me, but you don't understand me. I'm wasting my time with you mortals. I need to find someone who can talk for me, who can interpret me and tell other what I think. But first, I need a name.'_

Craig continued to talk in a hushed tone to his son, a smile on his face. The child eventually grew tired of his constant speaking, as it was interfering with his thought process, so he began to cry out to his father in an irritated little tone.

"_Shut up. Shut up. Shut up! Can you not see that I am trying to think? I need a name, one that is far better than what Mummy said, and your constant jibber jabber isn't making it easy for me!"_

"Looks like someone's hungry," a female voice said and, as if from nowhere, a woman in white took him from Not Mum and carried him to the bed where his Mummy still lay.

"_Hungry? Of course I'm hungry! Now give me food!" _he yelled in that angry little tone of his.

After being fed, the baby boy fell asleep, much to his distaste, and when he finally woke up the papers had been drawn up starting that his name was, indeed, Alfie Owens.

"_That is a terrible name,"_ he complained to his mum. She didn't understand him, nor did Not Mum, and he soon grew tired of trying to convince them to name him something else. They couldn't understand him and he was just wasting his breath and his time. _'Looks like I will have to come up with my own name to call myself and, once I'm older and can speak their primitive language, I can inform them of what my name truly is.'_

The man called Craig, or Not Mum to Alfie (only a temporary name since he would soon be renaming himself), turned on the TV and sat in the chair at Sophie and their son's side. The weather channel was talking about a _storm_ heading their way, there was a movie called _Armageddon_ playing, on another channel was a movie where a peasant referred to their master as _Lord_ and on yet another channel an actor used the word _dark_. Craig turned the telly off, saying there was nothing good on.

'_These words could be useful—but how can I use them to give myself the name I rightfully deserve? A name peasants will one day fear as they look to me, their supreme overlord?'_ he asked himself, frowning in though from where he lay in his mother's arms. _"Ah-ha!" _he cried, a grin curling his lips—that his parents didn't know was a grin.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Craig asked, jumping to his feet and rushing to the bedside, leaning over to examine his son. He'd cried out for some reason, so what was it?

"I don't know," Sophie murmured, worrying over their son as well. She couldn't see anything wrong with him. He wasn't tired and he wasn't hungry, nor was he hurt in some way. She thought of everything she could have done to him, did everything the same to see why he may have cried out as well as trying to see if he may have cried out for something. He responded to nothing. "Maybe he just thought we weren't paying attention to him?" she suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," Craig murmured in response, slowly moving back to his chair, but still keeping an eye on the two he loved most in the world.

'_I have it,'_ the baby thought to himself, the grin still spread across his face. _'From now on, my name shall be _Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All_. And all shall fear me one day, all these peasants shall live under my rule and only Mummy and Not Mum shall be treated like me. And one day I shall find the one who understands me and this being shall tell all of their new overlord, their supreme lord, and he shall be the most intelligent being, other than myself, and so he alone, aside from Mum and Not Mum, shall escape my wrath when I take over this wretched planet!"_

The baby, newly renamed Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All instead of the insignificant name of Alfie, rubbed his little hands together in glee, a gleam in his eyes that, to one who come understand him, would have realized just how magnificent this child truly was. A lord among men.


End file.
